


And Thomas was alone

by Penstrokes



Series: Role Swap AU [1]
Category: Super Science Friends (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, I read a biography for this, Role Swap AU, Technically an origin story, the title is a reference to something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23885974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penstrokes/pseuds/Penstrokes
Summary: Edison used to be someone. A man with a mind for making solutions to problems his world had and profiting off the inventions that followed. He still had more in him, yet his desire to keep going paired with his fierce need  to protect what he'd created was his downfall. Now who is he?It's an answer he wishes he didn't have some of the answers to.
Series: Role Swap AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1104762
Kudos: 8





	And Thomas was alone

**Author's Note:**

> Liz/ theonehater guessed the reference in the title so she gets a free request. It's coming after this...and after I take a quick break
> 
> ( Reference was Thomas was alone)
> 
> Special thanks to Travis for proof reading this.

No one particularly enjoyed these daily briefings but it was mandatory. They would be fools to not have them, to not be on top of what new advances or retreats had been made since the last twenty four hours. Edison only half paid attention to what was going on. Partially out of his deafness and partially because he didn't care all that much. His eyes wandered from face to face of the other super science friends. Curie and Einstein were the most alert. Freud was as invested as them, but he tended to doodle in his notebook. Jung glanced over from his side of the table- after their falling out they refused to sit on the same side if possible. The younger man looked away as soon as his former mentor and academic partner caught his eyes following him.

Darwin was just a child, thrown into the front lines of war. For just a brief moment, a flash of a face he hadn't seen or thought of for quite some time came to him. His nephew had shared that name with their young member and died here too. If he could help it, Uncle Tommy wasn't going to join him in that fate. At this stage of his life, who was there to care that the now infamous Thomas Edison, the fallen wizard of Menlo Park, the electric grim reaper had fallen in battle and came back dead? His immediate family were all dead save for one sister. According to the history books, she would only be alive for two more years in his normal time period. Mary had long died and his children…

He tried not to think of them. He didn't know who was more a disappointment to whom. 

Everyone here had a history of some sort with one another. 

Well, almost everyone.

Whether it be through past acquaintances that either ripened into something beautiful and transcended work or rotted into something toxic. A floor of broken glass between them that neither was willing to cut themselves on to fix. Forced to cooperate but unwilling to make any true amends. 

Churchill knew Einstein, they had written letters back and forth prior to this. Einstein knew Curie from the scientific field and from a personal sense. The warmth of their friendship could be felt even if no words were spoken. Freud had something to do with one of Einsteins' children and everyone knew about the mess between him and Jung. Darwin... Darwin had been someone Edison had thought of as a brilliant mind of the century. The man, not the child. He hadn't much of a clue what to think about him other than it was a shame someone so young was being sent to fight. Edison didn't exactly have a good track record with children. 

Tapputi had come of her own accord, marched into Churchill's presence. This was all news within the friends that he hadn't gotten the full story about just yet. 

And then there was him. The sole American in a room full of Europeans roped into fighting a war that seemed largely between themselves. He stood out in more ways than one. The way he dressed, the way he acted. His accent, his ' American humor.' 

That he'd come from the basement before this. That his pursuits had not been entirely scientific but mixed with business as well. 

There was more to his story, that invisible line between them

* * *

He'd drifted from one field to another, like a bee pollinating flowers. Going from one sector and building inventions before using them to fund whatever endeavors seemed most lucrative and interesting to him. 

The telegraph. The phonograph. 

He still remembered the endless recitals of ' Mary and her little lamb.' The hours of conventions he'd been at to demonstrate and impress upon members of the public and officials. How long had he sat in his chair, hand ready on the crank as an associate delivered speeches on their newest machine? The stage fright from these early days of showcasing what this peculiar man with the wide, pale face prepared him for the moment he would go down in history for. 

How odd, almost comedic that this nearly deaf man was fiddling with a process that was almost useless to him. 

How distasteful that the man who had wanted to change the world by birthing light in the darkness would hail forth death through that same medium. A shameful, desperate bid to keep his crown that he had spent so long to fight others for. 

He wasn't an inventor. He wasn't trying to hail forth a new age of technological wonder. Edison was just a greedy man, using his workers to farm them for their intellect and hard work. 

* * *

Edison wasn't a stranger to being attacked for one reason or another. The business, merely the world of inventions was an arms race. A battle to stay relevant and defend your work was an inherent aspect. 

It wasn't uncommon for more than one person to have created something similar separately. Not that stealing ideas wasn't a very real threat. Both of which Edison got plenty of experience with. 

Perhaps it was destiny that led him to look to electricity for a source of lighting instead of simply a means of communication. Telegraphy had served him well, giving him his early start. It had been his profession as well as his home for both his teen and twenties. Now as he approached his thirties it was time for him to leave it behind for now as he had with the phonograph. 

Edison had a power that he didn't know he could wield before then. He had proven he could deliver miracles. Already delving deep into electricity he made another. 

He would banish the darkness with light. Investors, men with and from high money were intrigued. Promises of great deals and untold sums of money to make him so rich he'd never have to work another day in his life flooded his senses. 

It was a gold mine of an idea. Now he had to deliver or risk losing everything thus far. Incandescent lighting would either make him or break him. Thomas Edison the dual businessman-inventor would have to come into his own or sink into obscurity.

Behind him was a team of strong, smart, capable men. His 'boys', a number from his early days, when he was setting up who and what Mr Edison would become to the world, were his second family. Countless hours together, minds and bodies divided but whole. They were as much a part of him as he was of them. They could do the math he could not. Accomplish the physical feats and artisan expertise he could not spend a lifetime learning. 

He could still see them even now in his memory. For a brief while he was no longer in England where his life was at risk. Nor was he living beyond his years. Churchill didn't catch him checking his own biography in the wee hours of the night. He was meant to have been dead a decade ago. 

* * *

It had been bittersweet. Excitement of the unknown, the largely unconquered called to him. Edison and his boys had spent months in the lab, testing every design, every material that looked even remotely promising. The fruits of his labor were everywhere. Looking up at the walls sat the one good thing that came from his ventures into electricity. His little glass orbs that he'd fought so hard for and over revolutionized the world. If that had been the one thing he'd be remembered for, then maybe it would have been ok. Their warm glow conjured up long hours of study. Going so far as to nearly sacrifice his eyesight through the burning of metal in little handheld vacuums. It wasn't too different from the one that came off of his person nowadays. 

The same that forced his best and worst moments in his life to replay if he let them linger too long. 

A miracle. Defying nature by taking what had been a fleeting spectacle to watch in awe and tame it, bend it to human will. 

A sin. Crossing a line he had never wanted to cross...until he did. He had promised another miracle only to deliver a nightmare not only to himself but to another man doomed by his own hand. 

Edison was kicked out of his personal slideshow from across the table. Jung raised an inquisitive eyebrow, saying nothing. Freud kept doing what he had been last time Edison checked. His scribbles seemed more deliberate, eyes flicking over to him. Edison's eyes met Jungs, then Freuds before slowly shaking his head. He'd have preferred to tap out something- Jungs legs were certainly long enough to reach but alas he wasn't sure if they were nearly as skilled in understanding.

" Is something the matter down there?" Churchill demanded, now drawing attention to the three of them. 

"There's no need to worry, Churchill. I was merely stretching my legs and kicked Mr. Edison by accident." Jung lied smoothly. 

He made eye contact with Freud before giving him a look. "Do continue." 

"Perhaps you should be more careful with those legs of yours. You do have a habit of getting yourself into trouble with your... anatomy." Freud breathed, earning a harsh glare and a swift kick from Jung. 

Churchill slammed the table, aggravated by the disturbance. 

" I thought I told you two to work out your problems already." He yelled. Those sitting closest to him grimaced. 

Edison lazily blocked out the commotion, before sliding down into his past whether he liked it or not. As the two psychologists bickered both between themselves and with their current boss, Edison couldn't help but notice the similarities between Jung and Kruesi, his own Swiss employee. Tall and well built, long armed and heavy accented. 

Kruesi had been a life saver, the earliest means to his ends. Whatever he had needed, whatever he had sketched out Kruesi had come through. More specific faces came his way, layered in memories. Charles Batchelor, the level headed man who had represented him so often overseas- the very man who had introduced him to Tesla. 

Tesla, begrudgingly he'd admit, a damn good man, who would bring him down. 

Edison didn't blame Batch, he couldn't have seen where things would end up. 

Edison had made the beginning of his mark on the world. The US had been easier to convince to take a risk on their revolutionary system. Selling the idea and winning the right to wire up a small section of New York, the building of the entire system. Oh how those days were both taxing yet so thrilling. A new frontier all of his own. Mostly on his own. 

He and his team were far ahead with developments. Dynamos, wiring, the works. How many redesigns and tests there were to be had before it was perfect. 

Europe was less willing to acknowledge him and his work. He wasn't the proper type of man. Wasn't humble enough, wasn't educated the right way. He was simply too American for their sensibilities. So they sided with Swan over him when they could and downplayed his advancements.

* * *

Until they couldn't anymore. The exhibition had helped to sell the idea not only of Edison's work but of Edison himself and all he stood for. There had been a lack of power for the exhibits and yet it was His that stood out. His generators that had kept his inventions running- with some management until his jumbo dynamos had arrived. It was all but won at that point. 

He had been vindicated and validated. He had earned his worth. Now all that was left was to play businessman and manager first and foremost. A painful , temporary split from what he had wanted to do so badly from the beginning.

Experiment. Invent. But alas if he were to keep the fruits of his labors he would have to be someone else. Someone who knew how to be sociable, knew the fine art of negotiation and money. 

Edison had delved too deep into all matters electricity. It had taken up so much of his attention, given him such tunnel vision that he'd neglected his family. They had become strangers to him and vice versa. Perhaps they had never really known each other aside from what their roles in the family were. His first wife, Mary, had stressed and lamented over his absence. 

How he lamented over hers shortly afterward having settled into this new phase of his life. But then he would stuff it deep in the recesses of himself and move on. What Edison would do about it was a subject only he knew,, no matter how deeply Freud and Jung would try and dig. 

Her death had been the end of an era in his life. Just like how his marriage to Mina a mere eighteen months later would mark another.

Times were good, mostly. With new opportunities for wealth, there would be competitors. Westinghouse was the man who would dominate that field, running neck and neck with Edison's own firmly established company. This time, Westinghouse was using a different current than his own. One Edison believed, no, knew to be deadly. It wasn't just a matter of losing business and his rightful place as the founder of the electrical grid. It posed a threat to years of hard work, to his reputation. To him.

The war was mere fodder for news and gossip for the rest of the world. To the men involved it was personal. The final test. Edison had overcome so before now. If he could just win this he would have firmly cemented himself in this field to the world.

* * *

The meeting was over and everyone shuffled off to their rooms to do their daily routine. Edison didn't have an appointment scheduled with either psychologist and even if he did, he was known to be on the more avoidant side. He would come when he felt like coming unless he was forced. It was nicer than some of the places he'd stayed in during his youth. A room to himself with a decent sized lab for one. Churchill had picked him up for his mechanical work but his heart still held a special place for chemistry. Occasionally he would ask Curie to lend him some chemicals to work with. Curie, more often than not obliged if it wasn't too difficult for her to get her hands on. The two may have merely shared an interest in the same field, but they had enough respect to give the other leeway and privacy. 

His room rarely had visitors in it and when he did it was either Churchill at the door- the man preferred his members to go to his office instead- or because he'd been bribed with a nice cigar. His preference in tobacco was the only thing he agreed with Freud on.

Edison had started out on his own but after having such a large group of men behind him it felt lonely. It wasn't a word he had paid much attention to in the past. It had rarely affected him yet he felt it so strongly here. 

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to be here. 

* * *

Edison was losing this fight. It was apparent. No matter what he did, he just couldn't compete with Westinghouse and Tesla. Every new update either from his spies or from JP Morgan, who was the only man more invested in this current war, as it was dubbed by the papers, brought Edison more rage and despair.

Westinghouse was a fool. He was going to risk the future of the modern world on a current Edison was positive was dangerous. He had to put a stop to this no matter what. 

Edison had developed some knack for self promotion. He had learned a few tricks to get the media to pay attention to him. Invite journalists in, give them the up close and personal with one of the biggest names. He had already sold the public on the idea that he could make the Impossible possible. 

Of course, he needed some sort of proof to help cement that awe and hype he could create. He needed bodies to tally up and tie to alternating current. There were plenty of horses and stray animals to be put down. He was helping the city while he strived to secure their safety. 

Even this was not enough. The bodies alone were one facet of his master plan, but without the science could he truly fight off the impending loss of control? Could he live without that control? Edison shunted off his responsibilities to his trusted men, veterans from his early days to do what he would want them to do. To steer this growing empire that bore his name and work. 

Edison lost track of how many hours, weeks even, that he dedicated to studying the mechanics of how electricity killed. There was blood on his hands but it wasn't human and that was okay. 

_He had vowed never to take a human life._

Edison had his results published through a proxy, getting the attention and reaction he had hoped for. Success was so close and they would soon find themselves with a subject to test it on.

_He had vowed never to take a human life._

The paper had convinced the governor that death by electricity was the method of the future when it came to dispatching those the law deemed no longer fit or deserving of life. 

_He had vowed._

Someone needed to build it, perfect it. Edison was obsessed now. He had but one goal, the ends justified the means. He needed to win. He'd finally be able to pursue his other inventions and ideas without worrying so much about money 

_He had vowed._

Everything he'd worked for. All to accomplish the one thing he'd ever wanted to dedicate his life to. 

_He had vowed._

Westinghouse was outraged.

_He had vowed._

There was a deadline. Two, in fact. 

_He had vowed._

It was finished. 

_He had…._

The man was dead and the world was convinced. The weight of what he had done would linger in some form but it was behind him. Cries of the dangers of AC echoed through the country, turning the tide in his favor. The other electric companies faced with either changing their current and their systems or trying to convince their customers that AC was still safe despite the electrocution. He had succeeded in what he'd came to do and that was that. 

_Until it wasn't._

Westinghouse smelled something rotten. Tesla had been too stubborn and defiant of the outcome. 

Out of sight. Out of mind. 

_Until it wasn't._

Edison has been too preoccupied with his newest endeavors, an invention if not an entire new system that would open a world of wonder for the eyes. A marriage of sight and sound. Undoubtedly it would require entire new systems designed around it, not unlike electricity. 

He had conquered that and he would conquer this too. His life was squared away, he was unstoppable. 

_Until he wasn't._

Tesla and Westinghouse had uncovered his hand in the current war. Now the rest of the country did as well. The mob of reporters and concerned investors were Edison's first encounter with the discovery. Shocked, he wasn't sure what to say. Old stage fright over took him. Edison shooed them away, calling for one of his men - Batch, or whatever his new secretary's name was, the one that replaced Insull- they would smooth things out. They always had a way with words. 

_Until they didn't._

Demands for the truth intensified, demands that could no longer be ignored. Edison fought tooth and nail, hiring lawyers to help protect him and most importantly, his lab and everything and everyone inside. The lab was a part of him. Some greater, perhaps ideal version of who he wanted to be. If it died…

He didn't want to think about it but the possibility was staring him in the face. 

The threat became very real the more information came out. Despite his best efforts his involvement, especially with the electric chair surfaced. 

It may not have bankrupted him, but something even worse took the brunt of the damage.

His reputation. 

Edison could see his whole life laid out before him. The curious boy who only wanted to learn. The teen who was a budding inventor, his habits of business showing in faint flashes. The young man whose life centered around telegraphy and Morse code. 

The man who had struggled to get a system in place, to make it real. A living breathing, profitable system that changed the world and held darkness off at bay. He saw them and they saw him. A man looking into himself and recognising an importance beyond anything he had fully realized until then.

* * *

Edison took a long drag from his cigarette. Holding it in and feeling the smoke inside him before carefully letting it out. However much he wanted nothing to do with electricity, it was a part of him now until he ' lost' it. Even if he did lose his belief in electricity he could never escape it. He had it to blame and reluctantly thank. If it weren't for it, he wouldn't be here. But he'd have everything else if only…

Churchill had made an offer he couldn't refuse. A salvation for him. Although Edison had been clawing his way back up to the top, the stress was chewing away at him. How many times had he wound up in a hospital? 

How many times had his children's well being been saved due to Mina's family helping out? 

It burned him as much as well, everything else. Churchill promised to help him out to an extent. He couldn't fix his situation, but he could offer some relief. 

The just okay friends had been largely welcoming as they languished in the basement. The thought of being held down there with other scientists, whose only purpose was seemingly to just be there. Edison was surprised to see a few contemporaries. Pasteur, whom he remembered having met in person was there. If he reacted to Edison's downfall he didn't show it. Washington Carver was there as well, a true pleasure to be around. Gerty Cori smiled and laughed, Lemaitre was a good soul. Mendel was another agreeable man. Archimedes wasn't his type of person but he was helpful with doing math when Edison needed it for his basement experiments. All bright minds in their own right yet slated for nothing. It was less of a prestigious team to be a part of and more of a prison. 

He accepted it on some level and made use of the time and the people there to aid him in the work he did to preoccupy himself. If they complained about that, they didn't comment on that either. 

The other half of him, the part that could still be proud, was insulted by his station. What was the point in the basement? Either he was meaningful or he wasn't. He deserved better, he was worth more than this. 

It was up to Churchill in the end and it was him who eventually brought him upstairs. 

The super science friends as they were officially called were a cut above and apart from him. He'd arrived to see the group settled around a table, possibly deep in conversation already. He couldn't make out what they were saying but he could make out that there was sound. Their reaction to his joining told him everything. That distance between them was immense. 

The team looked at him with surprise, curiosity and indifference. It wasn't until after Churchill officially introduced him that they made any move towards him. Einstein put on a face and welcomed him as their defacto leader, second in command to Churchill. Curie gave his hand a stiff shake while Tapputi did her best to act interested. Freud and Jung put aside their scowling long enough to greet him although their feud still fumed in the background of their actions. 

Darwin was the only one who greeted him with genuine curiosity. 

He had no doubt that these men and women knew of his sins. That his hands were permanently stained with blood, both directly and indirectly. He was an outsider in all meanings of the word. He was uneducated, the type the European scientific community looked down upon. The only one from half way across the ocean. 

He wasn't really a scientist.

He wasn't like them.

Edison didn't even get the luxury to have dignity about him.

* * *

Edison stood in front of the window, gazing below. The light of his cigarette illuminating the tired, listless face that stared back in the window. The face of his own failure fazed back in defeat. The gap between him and his team was still there. One he had only marginally tried to cross. 

The only success was that now they were all killers. It wasn't much comfort. 

Edison finally put out the cigarette, simply standing there in the dark, perpetually quiet room. Not even a shadow of his former self nor the man he imagined he'd be, regardless of his willingness to ponder such things- he could almost feel their presence behind him. His Boys, eagerly waiting for his orders for a new day. His wife, insisting he take better care of himself and be human for a while. 

Edison turned around to be met with no one. 

Thomas was alone.


End file.
